


Starved

by TheDemonInside



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Confused Diaval, Diaval needs a hug, F/M, Fear, Hurt Diaval, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Maleval if you squint, Scared Diaval, give him a break, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonInside/pseuds/TheDemonInside
Summary: What had he done wrong this time? Everything had gone perfectly, and now she mocks him? Trying to figure out his mistress is so confusing.OrDiaval thinks he fails Maleficent. He gets it all wrong.Just Hurt/Comfort.Let me know what you think
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 105





	Starved

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop. Don't we love hurting our favorite characters? I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote.

The sky was just beginning to darken when the ebony bird swooped into the cave. His wings spread wide and powerful, each feather sleek and colored like the night sky, gleaming hues of purple and green under the last crimson rays of the setting sun. A hoarse croak announced his arrival to the dark fae that sat awaiting him across the cave, he waited for her beckon one foot aloft clutching his prize between sharp talons.

At her signal, he hopped forward a step then fluttered across, circling her head and dropping the trinket in her lap. He squawked twice more then settled on perching on a ledge in the side of the rock. He watched dutifully as his mistress picked up the silver crown, beady eye gazing observantly as she turned it over a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. 

After a while she looked up at him, waved him down from the ledge and turned him back to a man half way with just a flick of her wrist. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, sweeping into a bow before her.

“At ease Raven,” she spoke, “You have done a good job my friend”

Diaval stood his head cocked, had he heard right? His mistress never praised him; every word in that sense was always dripped with sarcasm, and he tried, he tried to make her proud- really. He risked life and soul over and over to try and please her, just today he had retrieved the crown from the king’s head, being battered away and dodging arrows as he escaped back to the moors. He expected no commendation for it, expected perhaps a curt nod, the right to remain by his mistress’ side a while longer.

No, by receiving compliment it meant he had done something wrong, the whole sentence was off; he was a servant not a friend, Maleficent only spoke kindly of him in joke or in sarcasm that hinted she was displeased.

And so he stood taller, tore his gaze to the floor.

“Is that all?” he muttered, still keeping his eyes down, afraid that they may tell too much.

“You are going already?”

“Do you need me for something else?” The man was itching to run, to fly, the raven in him wanted to break free. He knew he could change if he could just get out of there, it took a lot of energy because of his lack of Maleficent’s magic, but if he so wished, he would be a bird again- thanks to the fae’s blessing those weeks ago.

“No that is all.”

With that he turned, biting down on his lip, trying to maintain control a while longer. As he walked to the cliff edge he could feel eyes boring into his back, but his burning emotion kept him from turning round, what had he done this time? Where had he gone wrong? Why was he always going wrong? He reached the edge, looked down and saw the expanse of the moors, such a beautiful place, he leant forward, spreading his arms which quickly morphed back into his beautiful wings.

He knew not how far he travelled, the land passed beneath him quickly, forests and fields, mountains and rivers, all a blur that he had no reason to keep his eyes on. He flew just to feel the wind under his wings, how it slipped between his feathers, flew just to feel the power that flight gave him and because it was taking him far away.

It was completely dark when he landed in the branch of a tree, it was a lonely oak, sat atop another cliff that overlooked the banks of a river. The raven crouched here, head tucked into his feathers, gazing at the sky to try and find a single star that wasn’t covered by cloud. When he failed at this he sighed, or sighed in whatever the bird similar was to this before gliding down from the branch, shifting back into the form of a man to sit on the cliff edge.

He was tired of it. He was drained by the transformations but he also was worn down by the stresses kept on his shoulders. He was trying, trying so hard to be a good servant, it scared him that he wasn’t enough. Because he wanted so badly to be better than what he was, to deserve a place by his mistress’ side, he knew he never would and it saddened him deeply.

He kept pondering these grievances, unaware that tears had begun to fall- too lost in his own mind. It squeezed his heart, made him choke on his own grief, on his own failures,. He clapped a hand over his mouth, uneasy with this human way of emotion, trying to muffle his sobs. He hiccupped and tucked his knees to his chest, forehead on his knees, eyes closed as he battled to regain control. He did not notice the approach of anyone else.

“My dear boy, what’s wrong?” The voice sounds shocked, does it? He was meant to notice their approach!

“Diaval?” So they knew his name. But why hadn’t he noticed! He was a raven! He was meant to be aware of his surroundings; it was dangerous to not notice.

He focuses on them now, holding his breath, listening. Soft footsteps approach, the person crouches beside him and he can almost sense their hesitation as they set a hand on his shoulder. He flinched under their touch, eyes flying open, a hand falling behind him his head turned to face whoever his attacker may be. It was his mistress. His mistress had grown tired of him then, of his worrying and ineptness and annoying character and his weakness, just as he had grown tired of himself.

But instead of putting a blade through his ribs like he expected she stepped back, putting her hands up. Diaval stood, facing her, scrubbing frantically at his face; prey must never show weakness. He steps back as she makes to approach, foot nocking some stones off the cliff, they clatter and echo but he never makes out the end of their drop. He risks a glance down, sees for the first time, just how far that would be to fall. Gulps because he knows he is cornered by death, because he knows he has no energy left to shift again. He turns back towards his mistress, meets her eyes, he thinks he sees fear, but he never has been good at reading her.

“Diaval please,” She speaks softly this time, “Talk to me”

The raven hesitates, face confused, she has used his name, she is not angry, not disgusted by his act. He sighs and droops a little, but makes no over move, keeping his eyes trained on the dark fae. Tired and mistrusting. She takes an intake of breath affected by this shell of the character she knew, she once again makes to approach but the raven’s instinct kicks in, he stand upright, steps backwards, but there is nowhere left for him to go.

He twists as he falls so that he may see the river and the way it froths against the rocks. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he is too tired for anymore fear, and it is beautifully enticing in a way. He thinks he hears someone call his name, but he doesn’t care anymore, that leaves no one left.

Before he’s even halfway down, he’s bathed in green light, his tendons shifting for another time back into their usual form, he feels the current of air catch beneath his wings and flaps them once to propel him upwards. He caws once and brings himself in an arc, looking for the easiest currents to follow, his muscles ache and his wings are becoming heavy, and he knows he must land soon. So he drags himself higher back to the figure on the cliff edge, dutifully, knowing this is where he must head. The place to which he will always return. He sees those green eyes watching for him and glides, well more like ungraciously flaps his wings, towards her, landing clumsily on her outstretched arm.

“Oh you silly bird,” she coos, holding him tightly, gripping him against her chest.

The raven allows himself contentment for a moment, nestles into her warmth, listening to the steady thrum of her heart. He looks up with one dreary eye and caws softly. His mistress looks down and brings her other hand to gently pet his feathered head. For a moment it almost feels to Diaval as if he has done nothing wrong. But then he remembers who he is.

He wiggles about in the fae’s grip and flaps his leaden wings a little to prove his point. The hand holding him is released and as he jumps from the warmth he is turned again. He tries to balance on legs of jelly, trying at the same time to hide this numbness inside. He grins at his mistress, wants everything to go back to normal, but the tears in her eyes quickly make it drop.

“What have I done wrong?” She asked and it took the man completely by surprise.

“Mistress,” he said, “You have done nothing wrong. It is I that has failed you again. I am aware that I often disappoint the people I serve, trust me, I disappoint myself even more, I am trying mistress, don’t make me go, not yet, I’ll try harder, I won’t fail you again I promise!”

“Diaval,” she says quietly, “whatever would give you thoughts like that”

The bird stood confused, head cocked trying to piece it together but for the life of him, he could only see his failures.

“I have failed you mistress. I- I- You often say so, or at least you’ll do it in these, round about ways and- sometimes my failures are clear see, but I know them- know your ways see. Today- today was different but it’s one of ya ways, to hide it behind a compliment an’ – I don’t know mistress, I get so tired of it all sometimes. I’m sorry for my weakness, I am.”

“Diaval,” she whispers again, tears falling free, “Are you really that starved of my praise?”

He stares at her blankly, he has already said his apologies what more-

“I’m sorry” and with that his mistress closes the distance between them and pull him into a hug. He goes ridged, tense, scared but when he realises the gentleness and care behind the move he sinks into it, resting his chin on her shoulder. He sighs and lets the fae support him for a while, sinking them both to the ground still wrapped in the other’s arms.

They sit like that a while, encompassed in each other’s warmth and crying their woes. He finds they end up lay on the ground, a tangle of limbs. Maleficent’s hand settles in his hair the other on his face.

“Diaval.” She says firmly, “You are wonderful being. You are caring and interesting and funny and loving and beautiful and fantastically wonderful in so many ways and you have never, never, once failed me” She settles to keeping an arm wrapped around him protectively, fingers trailing patterns across his back as he sighs contentedly, realising the belief she had in those words and melted into her warmth, head resting against her chest as he tiredly listened to her heart beat.

For the first time that night he realised, their might be one person that still cared for him. For the first time that night, he realised the emotion in her eyes was love. For the first time that night, a star shone brightly before him and for the first time in a long time he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> So, do we think Diaval's bad at reading people or Maleficent's bad at showing genuine pride?  
> I hope you liked this, let me know what y'all think :)


End file.
